Where I Can See You
by Gold Dust Woman
Summary: A little something I was inspired to write after replaying SH4. Based on the Skinned Mike bit.
1. Chapter 1

_I didn't mean for it to go this far. I only wanted to teach him a lesson. But I guess I should've known something like this would happen with that crazy bastard involved. I guess there is some validity to that old saying, "hindsight is 20/20." I thought I'd be able to take comfort in knowing that justice had been served…so why do I feel so awful? Maybe it's because there was no justice. After all, my solution to the problem didn't change things much. In fact, it only made things worse. I suppose that just goes to show there is a price to pay for taking the law into one's own hands._

_June 23rd - Rachael Hargraves_

* * *

"Is that all for you today, ma'am?" the bored-looking convenience store clerk asked the young nurse.

"Yeah." Rachael eyed her lunch lying on the counter-a heat lamp hot dog, barbeque potato chips, and a bottled soda-with some dismay. She was well aware that a health care professional should set a better example for healthy eating. Usually she would, but she had already sunk a month's pay into repairing her truck. She looked even more disgusted as she eyed the blue-and-rust colored piece of shit parked outside the door; a hand-me-down from her father, who had recently moved into a retirement community. The price was right so she really couldn't complain, but she usually did anyway. She quickly gathered up her artery-clogging foodstuffs and headed in that direction, but not before running smack into a man who had just walked in.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she blurted awkwardly, keeping a tenuous hold on her items as she staggered and tossed her mid-length strawberry blonde hair out of her face.

"That's…okay." The man whom she had barged into stared dumbfounded at her. He was somewhat average looking; slightly on the heavy side, clad in a well-worn denim over shirt, black jeans, and old sneakers. She didn't pay him much mind after issuing her acknowledgment, and dashed out the door to her truck. She got inside, turned the key, and…

"Damn it! You stupid piece of junk, I just fixed you last week!" She cranked it to no avail, and finally slammed her fist into the steering wheel, but not too forcefully for fear that the damn thing would fall off. Thankfully it stayed in place, so she rested her forehead on it, glancing at her watch in the process. And of course, she would have to be late getting back to work as well. That did not motivate her to move, but a sudden sharp rapping on her window did.

"Miss? I couldn't help overhearing…"

Rachael jerked her head to the side to see that man, the one she had seen in the store, peering in the driver's side window, which she rolled down.

"It does this sometimes…it won't start…I just had it repaired last week. I'm late for work too…" She could not hide the defeated tone in her voice.

"Mind if I have a look?"

With a sigh she nodded, and he instructed her to pop the hood. Within seconds she heard, "Ah, I see the problem." Moments later he returned to her side, wiping his hands.

"The battery cable had worked itself loose. It should be fine now."

Doubtfully she turned the key, and sure enough, it started right up.

"Oh thank God." She let her head fall back against the headrest, and turned to him. "Thanks, I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it." He smiled and offered his hand. "My name's Mike."

"Rachael." Weakly she returned his handshake.

"Yes, I can see that." He nodded at the nametag on her uniform, still smiling as he released her hand. "Well I'll see you around, Rachael."

She nodded and smiled half-heartedly before she drove off. As she pulled out onto South Ashfield street, she saw Mike in her rearview mirror, still standing in front of the store, appearing to be searching his pockets now. She did not see what he eventually came up with-a pen-nor what he wrote on the palm of his hand with it:

_June 6th - Met Rachael…the woman I am going to marry._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello again! I'm currently juggling two projects, so if one or the other gets neglected at some point, I have a good excuse, I guess. By the way, it seems I have my own "Skinned Mike" following me around this site. looks in Fallen Angel's direction (Just kidding...love you kiddo! -hugs-)_

_

* * *

_

I dreamt about her all night. I can't believe how beautiful she is. And she looked right at me too. When our eyes met, it was like magic. She felt it too, I just know it. It won't be hard for me to find her again either. It was right there on her ID card…I made sure to look at that. Of course, the part of her body it was attached to wasn't too bad to look at either.

_June 7th - Mike Findlay_

* * *

Mike sat in his car in the parking lot outside St. Jerome's hospital, searching the small landfill in the passenger side floorboard. Eventually he surfaced with the thing he'd been looking for; a half-full bottle of men's cologne, which he sprayed liberally all over his body. He checked himself in the rearview mirror, smoothing his hands over his short salt-and-pepper hair and slicking down his eyebrows before getting out of the car. He did a quick analysis of himself again as he approached the glass doors of the hospital. He wore his best clothes today, a light-blue button down dress shirt, expensive jeans faded in a stylish fashion, and black boots. He didn't look his best for their first meeting, but he was determined to make up for it. 

The cool sterile air of the hospital felt good on his sweaty skin when he stepped inside the lobby. The young woman at the reception desk did not acknowledge him right away, but he soon caught her attention.

"Afternoon miss," he announced loudly as he strode up to the desk, causing the girl to look up from her work. "I was wondering if Rachael Hargraves was working today."

"Um…" She studied him. "I think she's back from lunch, I don't know. She's probably not available for visitors though."

"It's okay, I'm her boyfriend. I won't keep her long." He grinned.

The girl raised an eyebrow suspiciously before sighing exasperatedly and reached for the intercom. "Nurse Hargraves to the front desk. Rachael Hargraves to the front desk." She switched off the intercom and gave him a look as she returned to her work. "She'll be with you in a moment."

Mike stepped away from the desk, clasping his hands together excitedly. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she saw him. He eyed both hallways to either side of the desk anxiously, finally spotting her coming down the one to the right. He stared, burning her image into his brain even further. It didn't hurt that she had an incredibly sexy walk either.

"Hi, can I help…" She stopped in her tracks when she saw him.

"Surprise." He spread his arms out to the side. She looked blank for a moment, but finally those beautiful blue eyes lit up with recognition.

"Oh…you're the guy who fixed my truck yesterday," she said.

"See, I knew you'd remember." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the receptionist eying them curiously, and he just wanted to barge over there and tell her to get lost.

She still looked a bit stunned. "So what's up?"

"Oh nothing much. I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I'd check on you…you know, make sure you made it alright and everything, in case your truck crapped out again."

"Oh…oh yeah, the truck's fine. As fine as it can be, I guess. It's a piece of shit."

He laughed loudly, and once again the receptionist looked in their direction. This time Rachael looked over at her as well, so he quickly added, "That's okay, maybe one of these days some nice guy will buy you a brand new truck."

She smiled. "Yeah, my boyfriend said that wouldn't be too far off."

He goggled. _Boyfriend…boyfriend…_ That word hammered in his ears like an afterimage. He repeated that word over and over in his head until it no longer sounded like a real word. But he had to say something quick, because she was looking at him with concern now.

_Someday I will give you that, my darling. And a whole lot more too._

"Huh?"

_Oh shit. _He wasn't supposed to say that out loud. Not yet, at least.

"I…I asked how your day was going."

"Oh, it's fine. Same old, you know. Being a nurse can be hard work sometimes, but it's worth it. I love my job."

"Good. I'm glad you're happy."

She looked at him strangely this time. "Well, I'd better get back to work. They're probably looking for me."

"Oh yeah, don't want to get you in trouble." He smiled weakly. "So…I guess I'll see you around?"

"Sure. See ya." She smiled and waved goodbye as she turned and headed back down the hall. He watched the entire time. God, she looked so incredible. She could stop traffic in that skirt; short enough to show off her legs, but just long enough to leave a little to the imagination. And he had a vivid imagination…

_Yes you will, my darling._


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again! Just as a fair warning, this chapter made me nauseous just to write, but I suppose it was necessary. It will get creepy (read: creepier), but I did need to get some of the pseudo-romance crap out of the way (you know, for those people who have never been stalked before and might mistake this for a cutesy romance story. I've done my civic duty for the year.) Anyway, on with the story.

* * *

_Chapter Three_

_Mike, the guy who fixed my truck yesterday, came by my work today. I was surprised to see him. I hope I didn't offend him too much, but I was really shocked. I didn't know what to say. I didn't even ask him how he found out where I work. It was the whole car-wreck analogy, where you just stand there with a stupid look on your face, wondering why your body isn't reacting. I tend to do that a lot. Lance worries about me because of it. He says it'll get me in some serious trouble someday. I hope he won't be too upset, but I want to do something nice for Mike, to thank him for helping me. Maybe I'll just invite him out for drinks or something. Maybe he has a girlfriend or a wife, so we can make it a double date. No harm in that._

_June 7th - Rachael_

Rachael closed the cover on her journal and glanced out her bedroom window onto South Ashford Street. For three years, the whole time she had lived in Ashfield, she had sat here and wrote in her journal every night after work. Working at the hospital, she encountered plenty of interesting people and experienced a whole myriad of emotions throughout the day. After a particularly trying shift, she would immediately come home and write about it. It never failed to make her feel better. Today, however, was the first day she had ever written about something not directly related to work. She really did worry that she had come across as aloof when she met Mike today. She only hoped that she would be able to run into him again. Fortunately, Ashfield wasn't that large of a city.

"Now who could that be…" She rose from her desk chair at the sound of the doorbell outside, and rushed into the living room. Through the peephole of her front door she saw the familiar sight of the narrow chiseled face and lightly touseled sandy hair of her boyfriend Lance.

"Hey beautiful," he greeted her when she opened the door for him, and kissed her as he stepped inside. "How was work today?"

"Um…" She contemplated telling him, but something stopped her. "It was good. Nothing much happened today."

"That's good. My day was busy enough for both of us. I went to see those people at the gallery today. They loved my work. I think they're gonna buy."

"Really? That's great! I'm so proud of you." She hugged him.

"Yeah, I'm going to the show this Friday night. If only I can find a date though…" He rolled his eyes around playfully.

"Well, I don't think such a good-lookin' guy would have a very hard time." The pair dissolved into a fit of giggles, until it was interrupted by a heated liplock.

"Mmm…" he murmured in her ear. "Do you have any idea how bad I want you right now?"

"Yeah?" She brought her hands from his shoulders to the small of his back. "How's your back feeling?"

"Ugh…" He grimaced. "Still pretty sore. It's only been a week since I fell, after all."

"Well that sucks. Speaking of which…there are ways around that, you know."

He chuckled. "I like the way you think." He started to pull her in for another kiss, when the sound of a cell phone ringing disrupted them.

"Whoa, that's them. It's the gallery. I wonder what they want?" Lance took the call, pacing excitedly around the living room as he talked, but Rachael scarcely heard a word. The combination of Lance's back injury and the near-constant negotiations with the art dealer had all but brought their sex life to a screeching halt, and despite her mild-mannered appearance and demeanor, Rachael was quite the sexaholic. She had her ways of coping with the dry spell, but there were just some jobs that she couldn't handle by herself.

"I don't believe it! One of my pieces has sold already!" Lance announced as he dashed over to her. "I've gotta go now and meet the buyer."

"Right now? But I thought we were gonna go out tonight."

"Aw…" He kissed her on the forehead apologetically. "I'm sorry, baby. But I can't pass this up. I'll make it up to you, I promise." With that, he was out the door. Rachael wasn't too far behind him, but she was headed in a different direction than him.

Bar Southfield was not terribly crowded for a Friday night. Rachael was grateful for this, and she parked herself at the most secluded end of the bar and ordered up her usual, White Russian. After about twenty minutes or so, she was even more grateful that she was not bothered by half a dozen people who recognized her from the hospital and wanted to ask her obnoxious questions about her job, which ranged from everything to "So do you ever see any dead bodies?" to "Have you ever had sex with a comatose patient?" Thirty minutes and two drinks later, however, she did have a visitor.

"Well, fancy meeting you here. And alone, nonetheless."

She whirled around to find a familiar face behind her. "Oh! Mike, hi," she blurted awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"

The older man, now clad in dark jeans and a tight white t-shirt, smiled amusedly. "Well I'm either an undercover cop or I'm here for the same reason you are."

She laughed in spite of herself; it only took a couple or so drinks for her to become a complete airhead. "It's good to see you. I was hoping I'd run into you again."

"Is that so?" He parked himself on the stool beside her and leaned in attentively, sipping on a rum and coke as he did so. "Why's that?"

"Well, I wanted to thank you again for helping me the other day. I hoped I didn't come off as being a jerk, you know? I was just surprised. No one has ever stopped to help me when my truck broke down before."

"Well…" he droned in a deep throaty voice that, she reluctantly admitted, was pretty damn sexy. "No one knows about that better than me. People only think about themselves, you know? All wrapped up in their own little world. Well I like to think that sometimes you're placed in a situation because you were meant to be there, you know what I mean? You were 'the one' at that given moment. I like to think that I was meant to be there that day to help you."

She smiled. "That's a really nice way of thinking. I wish more people thought that way."

He shrugged. "That's okay. As long as other people continue to be assholes, I'll continue to have my appeal."

She couldn't help laughing…and staring. He was somewhat older than her-she estimated around 37 or so-but he wasn't unattractive. Even if he wasn't the typical cute guy, he still had a way about him, charming and sincere. She couldn't believe she was thinking things like this. For now, she would blame it on the alcohol.

"Hey, I'll be right back, okay?" he said. She nodded, and he headed in the direction of the men's room. No sooner did he disappear than a large and rather unpleasant man ambled to the bar and seated himself beside her where Mike had previously sat.

"What's shakin', cutie?" he slurred in her ear, and the stench of booze and cigarette smoke nearly choked her out.

"My friend is sitting there," Rachael said as forcefully as she could.

"Oh, I'm sorry…was I supposed to give a flying fuck? I've seen that guy before…I'll wipe the floor with his pansy ass."

"Okay, whatever. He'll be back any minute, and you'll be in some real trouble then."

"'Okay, whatever'? You got a pretty sassy mouth for a broad who's hangin' out with such a loser."

"What's that?" a familiar voice intervened as Mike returned. "Friend, if I were you I'd leave the lady alone."

The man stood up, casting an ominous shadow over the smaller man as he did so. "Alright, 'friend', let me tell you something…if I want any lip from you, I'll check your neighbor's zipper, okay?"

"Is that so…"

"Yeah, that's so. Get it through your head, man. You're a loser. You're never gonna get a chick. They don't want anything to do with a loser like you. So why don't you go home before your mama starts callin' wonderin' where you are? I think it's past your bedtime anyway."

"You son of a bitch…" With that, Mike drew his fist back and slammed it right into the hairy man's throat. As he reeled over gagging, Mike dashed across the room and snatched a cue stick from the nearby pool table, brandishing it expertly. "You wanna say that again, you inbred hick? I'll fuckin' kill you if you try that again, mother fucker."

The man had no reply to this, aside from bending over and retching all over the floor. Mike took this opportunity to shatter the cue stick over his head to little effect, but that did nothing to deter him.

"Come on, any of you other mother fuckers wanna take me on? I'll take all you fuckers on." He grabbed another stick and held it poised over his shoulder, striking an oddly comical pose straight out of a bad ninja movie. At this point the bartender was ready to intervene, and Rachael couldn't help from busting out laughing.

"Alright, I think you've done enough damage," she said as she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the door. As they made their exit, a handful of slack-jawed onlookers watched, some snickering at the ongoing display of the oversized tough guy puking on the floor beside the bar.

Once they were outside, the pair eventually recovered from their uncontrollable laughing fit, and Rachael released his arm-albeit hesitantly.

"Do you do that often?" she asked between giggles.

"No, actually, I've never done that before, but I always wanted to," he said. "I mean, I've had plenty of people to fight, but I've never had anyone to protect before. That's the only way I would fight."

She couldn't help smiling at this, and she couldn't help hating herself just a little bit for it. She knew from experience what would feed a man's ego, and at the current moment she was the all-you-can-eat buffet. At the same time, though, she didn't really care either.

"Well, where do we go now?" she asked. "Is there anywhere else in town where you won't eventually be thrown out?"

He chuckled. "Well, with any luck, I won't be thrown out of my apartment anytime soon. It's at South Ashfield Heights. You know that place?"

Her eyes lit up. "Hey, I live there too. I'm in 106." As soon as she said this, she knew she had broken some kind of unspoken law for women living alone, but she really didn't care.

"Is that so? Well, I'm in 301, so if you're ever looking for a party…"

She lowered her head and gazed up at him coyly. "I'll keep that in mind." She paused for a moment and added, "So what're you doing tonight?"

He laughed again, eying her playfully. "Well, unfortunately I'd better get home and get to bed. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow. But…that won't stop me from walking you to _your _place."

She immediately agreed, while the entire time the rational portion of her brain screamed, _"What the hell are you thinking?" _She often chose to tune out that portion of her brain.

The ten-minute walk back to the apartments was fairly uneventful, but by the time they arrived at room 106, the butterflies started to settle in-for the both of them, it appeared.

"Well, that was fun. We should do it again sometime," Mike said, and she laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah. Who knows, maybe next time we'll get arrested."

"Maybe. That would be a story to tell, wouldn't it?" They both laughed at this, but their giggles soon subsided when their eyes met, and all fell silent for what felt like an eternity.

"I really would like to see you again," Mike said. "But…"

"What?"

"I don't know…I mean, your boyfriend and all…"

She thought about this. She knew there was nothing wrong with her having male friends just the same as there was nothing wrong with Lance having female friends. But she knew how she was; she was as boy-crazy as any 27-year-old woman could be, and as much as she cared for her boyfriend, she found it difficult at times to be with such a career-minded man, particularly when his career was so touch-and-go. She didn't even know what Mike did for a living, but it didn't matter because he obviously liked to go out and have a good time, which was more than she could say for Lance. She wanted to hate herself for thinking this, but she just couldn't.

"Well…" she began after a long silence that she did not intend. "The way I think about it, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She giggled. "So what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Don't tell me that you don't have someone in your life."

"Well, I don't…sad but true. Not for a lack of trying or anything, you know, it's just that I'm a pretty busy guy."

"Right." She fidgeted now, shifting from foot to foot and entangling her keys in her fingers until they dug into her skin, but she barely noticed. "Well if it means anything, I don't think you'd have any trouble. Any woman would be lucky to have a nice guy like you."

"Thank you, I appreciate that." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well…I hate to run, but I'd better or else I'd never leave."

She nodded, and let out a sigh of disappointment. "Yeah. Well, good night."

"Good night, Rachael. Take care."

"You too." She smiled over her shoulder at him as she unlocked her door, and continued doing so once she was inside, leaning against the door and clutching her keychain to her chest, smiling from ear to ear like a lovesick schoolgirl. Meanwhile, out in the hall, Mike stood outside her door for a long while, eventually reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet box, which he opened. Inside, his grandmother's engagement ring shimmered at him, with one small alteration-an engraving-that he had had done to it that very day:

_My beloved…always with you_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

_Stupid, stupid Mike! Oh why did I tell her I had to go home early? She obviously wanted to spend more time with me. Well, I guess it's for the best. She might not like me if she found out I don't really have a job. Not for the time being, at least. Hopefully something will come up soon. I'd hate to lose my apartment. A few days ago I wouldn't have cared much, but now I know that she lives here. What's more, I can see her from where I am. My living room window looks directly into her bedroom window. Only problem is that I'm on the third floor, and she's on the first, which doesn't make for a spectacular view. I borrowed some binoculars from Joseph in 302, but I didn't tell him what I needed them for. Who is he to judge me anyway? He's the one who gave me all those rare porno magazines, after all._

_June 8th - Mike_

Mike awoke around 12:30 that afternoon, still somewhat hung over from the night before. Not that he had had that much to drink at the bar, but he did have a substantial liquor cabinet in his apartment. To someone who didn't know him (and not very many people knew him) he would appear to be a classic alcoholic, but he didn't care. With any luck, he would be doing some entertaining soon, so there would be someone else to help him consume all that booze.

"Well there go my early morning plans…" Mike mused aloud, referring to his promise to himself, made early that morning before he even went to bed, that he would get up early and begin his job search. Time for Plan B; he headed downstairs to the lobby to buy a newspaper. He moved quickly down the hallway to the stairs; he didn't particularly relish rubbing elbows with any of the other residents of the apartment building aside from his friend Joseph…and his lady love, of course. At any rate, he knew he couldn't be so lucky.

"Hello," he uttered quietly as he passed Richard Braintree in the stairwell. Richard was a middle-aged man who lived on the second floor, and was pretty much unanimously hated by everyone in the building. The man issued an annoyed grunt in reply as he continued on his way, and Mike breathed a sigh of relief. He was not going to let some friendless asshole ruin his plans for the day.

Thankfully the commons were deserted when he arrived on the first floor, so he purchased his newspaper from the machine and glanced over it en route back to the stairs until he was interrupted.

"So, did the birdwatching expedition get cancelled or something?" a voice asked teasingly, causing him to look up.

"Hey, Schreiber, what's happenin', man?" Mike greeted his friend Joseph, who entered the building and was now standing behind him. He blushed a little at the reminder of the lame excuse he'd had the night before when he borrowed the binoculars. He knew that Joseph knew better, but as he'd maintained, he was in no position to judge him, nor was anyone else.

"You know better than to try to lie to me, Findlay," Joseph continued, smiling knowingly. "I am a reporter, after all. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to get something past me."

"Yeah, I should've known," Mike said, and quickly changed the subject. "Say, you don't know of anybody that's hiring right now, do you?"

The middle-aged man pondered this. "Well, I hear the hospital is looking for some new staffers. Kitchen, janitors, that sort of thing. I guess they pay pretty well if you don't mind working some pretty late hours."

"The hospital?" Mike said hopefully. "You mean St. Jerome's right down the street here?"

"Yeah. Rachael in 106 works there, so you might talk to her about it. You might wanna talk to her anyway. She's really cute."

"Heh…" Mike couldn't help grinning at this. "I'll do that. Thanks."

Within the next fifteen minutes, Mike was dressed in his finest interview attire-black slacks and a white button-down shirt, both slightly wrinkled but still wearable-and was entering the front doors of St. Jerome's. Much to his dismay, the same receptionist that was there yesterday was there again. She looked up at him, and the recognition was evident in her eyes.

"Um, Rachael's at lunch right now," she said before he even approached her.

"Actually, I would like to put in a job application today," he said.

"Oh…" She looked around, making an obvious spectacle of searching for something. "Um, I'll have to go print up some more applications." She then disappeared into the back, where she remained for at least five minutes. When it became apparent that she was not coming back, Mike started to head back in the direction she had gone, when he ran into a short, middle-aged man pushing a wide dust mop.

"Lookin' for a job, are ya?" the man asked.

"Yeah. I think she forgot about me."

"Ah, don't pay her no mind. She steals Xanax from the drug room." He looked over his shoulder and leaned in closer. "And…my sources have it that she's been doing a little 'overtime' with Dr. Case, if you catch my drift." The man chuckled and nodded knowingly.

"Oh…" Mike laughed obligingly, and added lamely, "That probably happens a lot, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah." The custodian leaned on his dust mop and grinned lasciviously. "But the kicker is…Dr. Case is a woman."

"Oh? Oh…hmm…" Mike felt even more uncomfortable now, especially considering the nature of those porno magazines he had at home.

"Ah, sorry about that, son. I guess that was a little too much info, especially since we ain't even been formally introduced yet." The man removed one of his work gloves and held out a hand. "I'm Jerome. I'm the eyes and ears of this institution."

"Jerome? As in, like, Saint?"

The man laughed. "You'd be surprised how often I get asked that. So ya want a job or not, kid?"

"You…you'd give me a job just like that? I don't have to interview and stuff?"

Jerome shrugged. "Don't really see the point of goin' through all that professional interview crap for a person who's just gonna unclog toilets all day."

"So…I'm hired?"

"Yep. Come in tomorrow mornin' and I'll show ya the ropes."

Mike nearly jumped out of his skin, but somehow maintained his composure, though he did nearly wrench the man's arm out of its socket with his enthusiastic handshake.

"Thanks a lot. You have no idea how much this means to me," he said.

"Well you're welcome, kid. But I'll tell ya right now before you get your hopes up, you ain't gonna get rich on this job. In fact, you'll be lucky to barely get by. That's just the nature of this job, though."

Mike beamed. "Oh don't worry about me. I'm not in it for the money anyway."

---

By that time the following day, Mike had been at work at his new job for four hours and in that time had learned more than he ever cared to know about the field of custodial work. The mops had to be laundered by themselves every night in the designated washing machine in the basement, each spray bottle of cleaning chemicals had to be washed and sanitized before being refilled-in their own designated sink in the basement, of course-and the mop water had to be made with the hottest water possible and with the proper PPI of sanitizing solution (whatever the hell PPI meant.) At any rate, he wasn't particularly concerned with becoming employee of the month. What did concern him was the fact that he had been there all day and did not see Rachael once. Perhaps she didn't work today, he pondered to himself as he moseyed into the second floor break room to check the trash cans. He was standing there debating whether to empty one that was only about ¾ full when he felt the presence of another person in the room.

"Oh, it's you." A surge of hope rushed through him when he turned to see a woman standing there, but it dissipated quickly when he saw that it was the front desk receptionist. The blonde smirked as she observed him.

"I…don't think we've met," Mike said awkwardly.

"No, we've met, we just haven't been introduced," she said somewhat facetiously, holding out her hand. "I'm Cheryl."

"Mike." As he took her hand, he noticed that she had a tattoo of a tribal design on the underside of her wrist. He was wont to notice things like that about a person right off the bat. Moving on, he noticed that her straight, shoulder-length blonde locks were tinged with the ever-so noticeable hint of blue streaks, indicating that she might consider herself to be something of a punk. Her tight pants and sheer white blouse, left unbuttoned just so, were enough to pull a person's attention from her hair, though. Overall, he had to admit that she was indeed quite attractive, despite her churlish demeanor. He also recalled Jerome's little story about her, and a whole flood of sordid thoughts filled his head. He wondered if she fancied Rachael, and perhaps that could explain her attitude toward him. For that matter, if this were the case, had those two ever…

_No, _he chided himself mentally. _Best not to go there._

"So, did Rachael get you a job here or something?" she asked, still eying him unsettlingly. Her tone suggested that she was on to him, but he thought quickly.

"Um…well, yes and no," he said as casually as he could. "She let me know that they were looking for help."

"Hmm." Cheryl shouldered past him and opened the refridgerator behind him, reaching for a Mountain Dew bottle in the door. He searched desperately for something else to do in the room, when in walked yet another distraction, only this time it was one he actually wanted.

"Hey Cheryl, I…" Rachael stopped in her tracks when she saw Mike standing there. "Mike…?"

"Hey, how are you doing?" he blurted, and felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as soon as the words left his mouth. He realized then how unnatural this must have appeared, and unfortunately it seemed Cheryl was privy to this. She observed with folded arms and a knowing grin.

"You…work here?" Rachael said.

_Damn, damn, damn, _Mike mentally screamed. It was too late even to ask her to play along. At any rate, if he asked her to do that she would want to know why, and he wasn't ready for that.

"Yeah, today is my first day," he said, imagining himself being shot out of a cannon face-first into the wall right then.

"Oh…well, that's great! I hope you like it here." She looked over at Cheryl with a vacant expression. "Have you met Cheryl?"

"Oh yes, we were just in here talking," Cheryl answered for him, staring him down the entire time.

"That's cool." Rachael was already heading for the door. "Well, I'll see you guys around. Oh, andgood luck with the job, Mike."

Mike held his breath until she was gone, feeling Cheryl's scrutinizing gaze. She chuckled as she ambled to the door.

"And they say romance is dead."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Rachael returned to the second floor break room some time later after having made a completely unnecessary trip to the vending machine downstairs. She really just had to clear her head, and walking around was one of the only things guaranteed to do that for her. She seated herself at the table with her lunch-if you could call a bag of Doritos and a bottled water lunch-and absent-mindedly opened them. She sat alone with her munchies and her thoughts for some time until she was joined by a visitor.

"We've gotta quit meeting like this," Cheryl quipped from the doorway.

Rachael turned to her with a half-hearted smile. "Who's watching the front desk?"

"Who knows." The blonde seated herself at the table. "So, what's the deal with that Mike guy, anyway?"

Rachael looked at her curiously. "Why, you like him or something?"

"I don't know about that, but it sure seems he likes you."

Something about that tone rubbed Rachael the wrong way. "What are you talking about?"

Cheryl smirked. "I consider myself to be a pretty good reader of people," she said. "He acts like he's fifteen again when you're around."

"He's just shy. It's kind of refreshing, I think. Most guys have this…I don't know…they feel they're entitled to whatever they want, you know? He's not like that. He's different."

"Heh…sounds like the feeling is mutual, I'd say."

She sighed wearily; she had told Cheryl numerous times that she'd make a good detective. "I just met him like three days ago. He fixed my truck for me when it broke down, and then I ran into him a couple times after that. He lives in my apartment building."

"Really?" Cheryl quirked her eyebrows at this. "Well that's convenient. But, you never answered my question."

"I…didn't know there was one."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Do you like him or not?"

"Well…sure, I guess. But as a friend. I already have a boyfriend." She shook her head in frustration. "Look, if I wasn't already seeing someone, I might possibly think about it. But I'm with a really great guy right now and I wouldn't think of ever cheating on him."

"Man, you are so fucking weak. So you've got a boyfriend, so fucking what? Everyone cheats on whoever they're seeing. You don't think for a second he might be cheating on you right now? And if he is, do you think that he's sitting somewhere having this same conversation with someone, concerning himself so deeply with _your _feelings?"

"Now that's not fair. Lance is a great guy and we respect each other."

"Okay, so you like the nice guy type. In that case, here's another question for you…if you're gonna be seeing someone on the side, why would you go for someone who's just like who you're already with? I mean, I've met your Mr. Wonderful. Sure he's nice, but he's kind of a wuss. You can do way better."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Hey, I'm just looking out for a friend. Frankly, Rachael, you're a little naïve."

"Ugh, you…just…go to hell!" Rachael fumed as she bolted from her chair and slammed it home before storming out the door. She walked the halls for some time, not even knowing where she was going or what she was doing. A lump lingered at the back of her throat and angry tears threatened to fall at an inopportune time unless she took a moment to gather herself. Up ahead of her, two nurse's aides rounded the corner, and she quickly ducked into the nearby supply room. There, she busied herself arranging linens in an indeterminate order, almost succeeding in forgetting what she had been so upset about, until…

"Rachael…?"

She whirled around, startled, and received even more of a shock when she saw Mike standing there. A sudden flood of panic struck her when she considered he might have seen-or heard-her outburst earlier. She could be quite formidable when she was angry, and she was embarrassed when other people had to see it. She enjoyed having a bit of a cool level-headedness about her.

"What are you doing?" It started to come out as a harsh demand, but she amended it mid-sentence to be more of a casual greeting. It was then she noticed that he had a laundry cart full of clean sheets in tow.

"Just putting away these things." He paused momentarily with his hand poised on the handle of the cart. "Hey…is something wrong?"

She sighed defeatedly. Despite her best efforts, she had never been any good at hiding it when she was upset about something. "I…it's just been one of those days, you know?" she explained, her voice cracking. "I guess all nurses get worn down eventually."

He nodded understandingly. "I'm sure they do. That's why I really admire that profession. I mean, it doesn't matter how bad a day you've had, or even how bad your week has been; when it's all said and done, you've helped somebody. And sometimes, you mean the difference between someone living and dying. There's gotta be something to be said for that."

"I suppose so, but…sometimes I feel like I'm just fighting a losing battle." She knew as soon as these words left her mouth that the conversation no longer concerned work. "Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting a battle between what I should do and what I want to do."

"Yeah…" He kept his eyes on the ground. "Well…I think there comes a point in just about anything that you deal with that you have to make a choice like that. I personally think that if more people just went after what they want more often and just said, 'to hell with the consequences', the world would be a slightly less pissed off place." He laughed. "But that's just me. There's so much that could go wrong with that."

She smiled amusedly at the ambiguity of this advice, and took a moment to study him. He wore the standard dark gray work uniform of the custodial staff, sans nametag, since they had yet to order shirts for him. The loaner uniform fit him well, though. She never noticed before, but he actually had a decent amount of muscle on his frame. She realized then that he noticed her appraising him, and her face flooded with heat.

"That's really good advice," she said lamely. "You should've been a therapist or something."

"Aw, I don't know about that," he said. "But anyway…I hope the rest of your day goes a little better."

"I think it will. Thanks."

"Sure." His eyes dropped to the floor. "Uh…if you're not doing anything after work, how about joining me at Southfield for a couple drinks?"

She quirked her head to the side to meet his wandering eyes. Even if it wasn't so obvious that he was anticipating rejection, she would not have been able to resist. "I'd like that. And with any luck we won't attract any police attention."

By the time lunch rolled around, Mike was pretty happy with life. He returned yet again to the second floor break room with his lunch-a bologna sandwich supplemented with vending machine chips and soda-and ate in solitude for several minutes. Of course, as he'd soon learned with this particular location of the hospital, it was never lonesome for long.

"Hey there Casanova," a familiar voice greeted him.

"Cheryl." He was beginning to wonder how many people came into the hospital that no one knew about because there was no one at the front desk.

"Hey, why don't we go have a drink after work today?" she said as she sat beside him. He thought she was serious until he noted her exaggerated schoolgirlish actions, and looked away in embarrassment. "Maybe we'll get arrested, hehe."

"How did you know about that…?" As soon as he said this he was sorry.

"I know more than people give me credit for. I figured you out right away. I knew you weren't really her boyfriend. You're just some creepy guy who takes advantage of naïve women. It's because of assholes like you that I don't like men anymore."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

She laughed. "Don't be. And don't misunderstand me either. I'm not one of those crusaders for women's rights or anything. I think that stupid bitches who dedicate all their time to finding and keeping boyfriends deserve everything they get."

"You think Rachael is one of those?" He wanted to sound forceful but it didn't quite come out that way.

"No, that's just it. I think she's one of the good ones. She just needs a little…guidance."

"So…you want to date her or something?"

"No, I want _you _to date her."

He munched thoughtfully on chips as he pondered this. "I don't think I understand."

"God, you men…" Cheryl grumbled disgustedly. "Okay, listen up. I want you to do this, and don't say you won't because I know you want to, and you were gonna do it anyway. It'll end disastrously, she'll be completely distraught and miserable, and that's where I come in…"

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You're counting on a relationship between Rachael and I to end badly so you can have her for yourself?"

Her only answer was a sly grin and a tap of her finger on the side of her nose. Mike shook his head.

"That's evil. I don't think she'd like you much if she knew."

"Who says she ever has to know? On that note, she won't ever know…right?"

He faltered, dumbfounded. "I…don't feel so good…"

"Right, she will be none the wiser." She perched herself on the edge of the table, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned in toward him threateningly. "Because if you fuck this up, I will do something to you. And I don't know what that is, because no one's ever tried to screw me over before."

With this, she made a classic cheesy villain's exit, leaving Mike alone with his neglected lunch and his thoughts. As far as he was concerned, she would just have to come up with something horrendous to do to him, because his relationship with Rachael was not going to end in catastrophe. He was, nonetheless, going to brace himself for that blowback, because he had no doubts that Cheryl was capable of considerable evil. The cute ones were often insane.


End file.
